


The science behind why multitasking is a bad idea

by newtgottlaid



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Hermann's horny and a workaholic, I'm horny and bad at writing, Lab sex.........again, M/M, Newt's horny and bored
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtgottlaid/pseuds/newtgottlaid
Summary: Oh no!! The breach is closed and Newt doesn't have anything exciting to do in the lab anymore!!!!!!
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	The science behind why multitasking is a bad idea

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah sorry this is stupid as fuck but it's been in the drafts 5ever and I got sick of not having it finished. Xoxo

"Hermaaaannnnn," Newt calls for the third time this hour, "what are you up to right now?"

"Bloody hell, Newton, I'm working. Same as I was fifteen minutes ago when you last asked," Hermann replies. 

"I'm bored, dude! My samples have an hour left in the centrifuge and my western blot is running and- before you ask- _yes_ , I already split my cell cultures this morning."

Since the breach was sealed a year ago, Newt and Hermann both had kept busy. Lingering research, manuscript writing, and data publishing made up the forty-hour work weeks that the PPDC still paid them for. Their relationship (and marriage, both still fairly new) proved more than enough to fill the remaining hours of the week. 

That being said, as fresh samples were now, well, _unavailable_ , Newt often struggled with the transition from the messy, heaping mounds of fresh kaiju parts (stinky and awesome) to the delicate and tidy world of kaiju cell culturing (less stinky and considerably less awesome). 

Hermann rolls his eyes fondly at his husband. "That's all very well and good, but my work isn't even close to finished yet. These equations don't solve themselves, darling." 

Newt lets out a long groan as he waltzes over to Hermann's desk. He leans against it with an exaggerated sigh and plucks the paper Hermann's holding right out of his hand. "This again?" he asks, teasingly, "I would have thought you'd have these worked out by now."

Hermann flushes and snatches the paper back. "If you _must_ know, I- I recalculated several of these equations to integrate some… newer data."

Newt raises an eyebrow.

"Fine. Your data. I redid them to account for your findings on water pressure effects." Hermann blushes even redder. "Are you happy now?" 

Newt lets out a veritable _giggle_. "Yes, Hermann," he says with a grin, "I'm _very_ happy. My husband is a mathematical genius! Not to mention," he leans over and whispers in Hermann's ear, "this is technically the first time we've officially collaborated, right? That's so sexy of us." He plants an obnoxious smooch right on top of Hermann's flushed cheekbone.

He strolls back over to his side of the lab and reaches into his desk drawer. "This calls for celebration, don't you think?" He pulls out a miniature bottle of champagne and two plastic glasses and waves them in the air. 

Hermann looks borderline offended. " _No,_ Newton, absolutely not. It's-" he checks his watch- "barely past noon, and I still have loads of work to do. Help yourself, if you must, but do leave me out of it."

To Hermann's surprise, Newt smiles and puts the bottle back. "Nah, dude, I was saving that one to share. We'll have it later with that vegan cheese ball I bought yesterday."

Hermann expects Newt to go back to pacing the lab, or doodling kaiju on Hermann’s chalkboards, or singing along to ABBA’s greatest hits, or, frankly, _anything_ but slumping down in his desk chair and unzipping his pants. Which is exactly what Newton does next. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Hermann squeaks out, quickly looking to the very _open_ laboratory door.

"Treating myself?" Newt laughs, "Because I deserve it? Considering my data was good enough for the esteemed Doctor Gottlieb to make use of." He wags his eyebrows as he shoves his hand down his pants. 

Hermann buries his face in his hands in pure mortification. "If," he says from behind his fingers, "if you must insist on being such a tart, could you at least shut the door?" He knows that Newton's little exhibitonist kink is something of an immovable object, but figures the least he could do is ensure the rest of the PPDC doesn't end up in the way of Newton’s, um, _unstoppable force_. 

"Sure thing, babe," Newt says with a grin, as he hops out of his chair and walks to the door with a comically obscene tent in his pants. After closing it (far too slowly, Hermann thinks, _anyone_ could have walked past and seen him in such a state), he gives an exaggerated stretch, letting his shirt untuck from his pants and ride up a bit. Hermann's eyes instantly hone in on the delicious sliver of colorful abdomen revealed and it takes all of his mental faculties to drag his focus back to his work. 

Hermann assumes Newton will end up, well, _treating himself_ on the lab couch, now that he's up and about, and is surprised when Newton appears at his side instead and plops himself down right on top of Hermann's desk, just to the side of the notebook he's been writing in. 

"Newton," Hermann says with a groan, "I'm trying to get work done."

"Don't mind me, babe, I just like looking at you. You're so hot when you're concentrating." Newt shoves his hand into his pants, "you just keep doing your thing, and I'll just do mine."

Hermann watches in absolute horror (there's _no way_ he's going to get any maths done now) as Newton pulls his prick out. It looks heavy, even only half-hard as it is, and it's already leaking onto Newton's fingers. 

Newt strokes himself a few times, spreading pre-come along his shaft until it glistens under the harsh overhead light, "I'm serious, Herms, get back to work," he laughs, "don't let me get in the way of important science." He leans back on Hermann's desk and wriggles his jeans and boxers further down his hips. 

Hermann tears his eyes away and back to his pages of calculations. He takes up his pencil and makes it as far as an _e^-3n approaches infinity_ before Newton lets out a distracting groan. Out of the corner of his eye he catches a tantalizing glimpse of Newton rubbing his thumb over his leaking slit then bringing his hand up to his mouth to taste himself.

Hermann shifts in his seat. He's been half hard since the moment Newton unzipped those tight bloody trousers of his, but now he's starting to think about rolling his chair over and tasting Newton _himself_ and-- _NO_. He will not give Newton the satisfaction. He rolls his chair a few inches to the right, just enough that Newton- or rather, Newton's prick- now occupies his blind spot. He rests his left hand on his temple to shield his view, just for good measure, and stares pointedly down at his work. 

After a few minutes (and more than a few failed attempts at basic multiplication), Hermann realizes that _not_ seeing Newton is almost worse. As he stares down at his neglected notebook, he is hyper-aware of the faint scent of sweat and sex, the heat radiating off of Newton’s body, the sounds he’s been making. Hermann feels a trickle of sweat pour down his brow-- by jove, the _sounds_. Moans caught halfway, breathy little whimpers, the occasional grunt of exertion. Not to mention the soft, wet noise of Newton’s hand on his prick. 

“Ah, ah-” he hears Newton cry, “oh, _fuck_. Okay. Come on.” He hears the sounds of fabric being manipulated, of boots being kicked off. He looks up when he feels a sock land on his lap. 

Newton, now nude save for his shirt and tie, is sitting with his legs sprawled open as he fishes a travel packet of lube out of the pocket of his jeans. His cock, poking out from under the bottom of his shirt, is flushed an adorable shade of pink and looks painfully hard.

“What-” Hermann’s voice cracks- “what are you doing, darling?”

“I’m, uh-” Newton rips open the packet too quickly, tearing straight through it and spilling lube all over the paperwork he’s been so carelessly sitting on. “Oh shit! Sorry, Herms, Just let me--.” He moves to grab a tissue from the other side of Hermann’s desk, but ends up just spreading the mess further when he drags his (thick, soft) thighs through it. 

Hermann sighs exasperatedly, “Newton, I--”

“Sorry, dude, I uh-” Newt starts to slide off the desk, lube-covered papers stuck to his legs- “I’ll get out of your hair. Give me a minute to, um, finish, and I’ll- I’ll come back and clean that up.” He stands up and starts gathering up his clothes. 

Hermann stops him with a hand on his wrist. “The damage is done, Newton,” he rolls his eyes and gently tugs his clumsy lover back to the desk, “sit back down.”

Newt raises his eyebrows in surprise, but quickly drops his clothes back onto the floor and carefully moves the sticky pile of Hermann’s paperwork out of the way before climbing back up onto the desk. He shyly reaches for his cock before Hermann brushes his hand out of the way.

“Let me.” Hermann wraps his fingers around Newt’s flushed cock and gives it a few tugs.

“Oh- okay, uh, wow,” Newt stammers, “you really--”

Hermann releases Newton’s prick for a moment to swipe his fingers through the mess of lube on the desk. “Now, please be quiet darling, I have work to do.” He strokes him from root to tip with long, slow pulls of his left hand, and picks his abandoned pencil back up with his right. 

Newt grins. “Are you kidding me, dude?”

Hermann rolls his eyes. “I am absolutely _not_ kidding you, Newton. I said I had calculations to do and I intend to get them done. And if this is the quickest way to get you finished and out of my hair, I’m willing to-- well, I’m willing to lend you a hand, so to speak.”

“Well, uh,” Newt squirms in Hermann’s grasp, “if you’re, uh, down to help me out anyway, would you mind, you know, fingering me a bit?” 

Hermann frowns and opens his mouth to respond with a _oh my god, no, Newton, you insatiable little man, can’t that wait until later?_ but Newt continues on, “it’s just that your fingers are so much longer than mine! And the angle is so much better when you do it.” He pouts and looks at Hermann through his long, dark eyelashes, “Please, Hermann? Pleeeease?”

Hermann can barely say no to his husband at the best of times. He sighs. “Spread your legs a bit more for me then, Newton? And lean back?”

Newt grins and scrambles to comply. Hermann reaches down to his bottom desk drawer and pulls out the pump bottle of lube he keeps there for, er-- Newton-related lab emergencies. He coats the fingers of his left hand thoroughly before bringing them up between Newton’s legs. 

He makes sure to catch Newton's gaze and hold it for a moment-- before raising an eyebrow and pointedly turning back to his paperwork the same moment his cool, wet fingertip touches Newton's hole. 

Newton shrieks and shoves his hips forward in response, nearly knocking himself off the desk. Hermann doesn’t need to see him to know he’s blushing furiously over how needy he’s being.

Hermann’s never been good at dirty talk. Even his normal banter feels stunted in bed. But knowing how worked up Newton is makes playing cool and detached a whole lot easier. “Doctor Geiszler,” Hermann chides, still turned toward his notebook and pencil, “if you aren’t going to sit still and behave this isn't going to work.”

“No, no, no, I’ll behave, dude,” Newt says, breathless, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

Hermann smiles. “Glad to hear it, darling.”

Before long, Hermann’s worked out a good rhythm. He’s pressing two fingers in, curling them up, scissoring them, then pulling out and doing it all over again. Best of all, muscle memory is letting him do a pretty fair job of it while not even looking up from his numbers-- not that he’s getting much work done, anyway, what with Newton writhing about and whining like he is. 

He _could_ tease Newton for how loud he’s still being. He could offer to gag his pretty little mouth with that stupid skinny tie of his so Hermann could _finally_ get some peace and quiet. But Newton, bless his heart, really seems to be making an effort. Out of the corner of his eye, Hermann can see him covering his mouth with his free hand while he tugs at his cock with the other, and honestly, Hermann’s never been so turned on by his peripheral vision in, well, _ever_ , so he chooses to reward him instead.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Newton groans, as he clenches down on the third finger pushing up into him. He pulls his hand away from his mouth to rub at his nipple through his shirt. “Oh man, I’m so close, dude, I’m _so_ close.”

He sounds absolutely wrecked, and Hermann instantly decides he’s had enough of this game. He can feel his own neglected cock turning purple from how hard he’s been the entire time. He pushes his chair away from his desk and slides it to the left, right in front of Newton. 

“You’ve been so good for me,” Hermann coos, as he bats Newton’s hand away from his cock and resumes stroking it himself. “So very good, Newton, and now you get to finish on my fingers. Is that what you want?”

“H- Hermann,” Newton moans as he frantically nods his head, “guh--”

And with that, he spills in warm spurts all over Hermann’s hand. 

Hermann strokes him through it, still pushing his fingers over his prostate, and when Newton starts to get squirmy from oversensitivity, he pulls away and wipes off the mess on Newton’s wrinkled shirt. 

“Well, Newton,” Hermann says sarcastically as he reaches for the hand sanitizer he keeps on his desk, “can you leave me to my work now that you’ve been properly rewarded?” 

Newt hops up off the desk, “Sure thing, dude.” He’s grinning from ear to ear. “God, I love you so fucking much.”

He leans over and plants a kiss on Hermann’s cheek, makes as though he's going to leave, but instead drops to his knees in the space between Hermann’s chair and his desk. He runs his hands up Hermann’s thighs and looks up at his husband coyly. 

“Well go on then,” Newt says as he reaches for Hermann’s belt, “you better get back to work.”

Hermann figures he ought to just take the rest of the day off. 


End file.
